This is an experience I had back in the day when I spent a lot of time on the road. Your comments are appreciated.

Back in the 90s on a road trip through Kentucky on Hwy 75 not far south of Lexington, I enjoyed one of my best rest area encounters. This experience happened as most find me when I was not looking for action. I wore a pair of green Levi jeans, a mustard tone pull-over shirt, and zipper-back ankle soft soled moccasins.
A typical Monday afternoon at the rest stop and I didn’t notice any dirty old men in large sedans lurking in the parking lot, so I thought more about draining my bladder than running into a cock opportunity. I parked in near the rest stop picnic tables and walked inside to drain my lizard. As I scanned a highway construction notice outside the men’s room, my afternoon changed when I noticed the look reflecting from a tall dark muscled package who noticed my green jeans as he approached me.
Something about the color or fit of those jeans, made them real man magnets. I tracked his eyes tracking my ass before he walked into the men’s room. His lusty gaze sent a tingle to my tiny clitty. Leaving now meant arriving at my hotel before dark or hanging around could lead to a ride on a throbbing cock. My lust made the decision easy.
The cooler full of drinks and snacks in my car didn’t stop me from heading to the vending machines to wait for my prey. He walked past me to the coffee machine, slapped the machine louder than required to make the selection then headed back to the parking lot. With a soda and bag of chips filling my hands planted myself on a picnic table just as he arrived at his brown panel van with a sliding door and a moon window high on the passenger rear panel.
As I nibbled on my chips, I couldn’t be sure if he could see me, but I pushed as far as I dare without risking an ass kicking. His well-toned body and close-cropped haircut indicated his probable military status and the reason for his caution. Gay sex could end a career, so we always had to play certain games when meeting a stranger in a public place. He might just ogle me and rub one out. Not the first time a hot guy did that, or he might lose his nerve and burn rubber out of the rest area.
I didn’t need to buy the chips, but I did need a break, so no harm done. Anyway, the precum staining my briefs would lubricate my masturbation session when I arrived at my hotel. As I swallowed the last of my soda, he stepped from his van walking in my direction. Doing nothing to hide the swollen cock tenting his sweatpants. My eyes locked on his excitement and more precum leaked into my briefs.
Sitting next to me, he mentioned my moccasins; I crossed my leg, unzipped one and showed him the lining. His eyes darted between the moist inside of my moccasin, and the sparkle of the reflection of the sunlight off my toenails as I bounced my foot and splayed my toes in the steamy air.
He inhaled my essence from the zipper end of the ankle moc before asking me to visit in his van. I walked towards his van before my scent cleared his nostrils. The sunbaked sidewalk burned my foot, so I walked in the grass, careful not to step on broken glass or something worse. He reached the van before me, pulled the sliding door open and tossed my moccasin in the back of the van.
I hopped across the last stretch of burning sidewalk and stepped into cool darkness, my bare toes landing in plush carpet as he closed the door and walked to the driver’s seat. My eyes adjusted to reveal a suede couch blocking the back doors of the van with a side bar supporting evidence of his road trip running lengthwise behind the driver’s seat to the couch. Avoiding the laundry and bean bags on the floor, I made my way to the couch as he drove us to an empty part of the parking lot. As I wiggled my toes in his carpet my afternoon was looking quite promising.
Kicking off his Nikes and pulling off his sweats before he reached the couch, the small talk period ended at the picnic table, and I got a better look at his package. His precum caused his briefs cling to his cock so I knew his eight inches were cut, his tool was not too thick and sported a nice mushroom head.
He took matters in hand, firmly stripping me naked from the waist down, positioning me so my midsection balanced on a laundry bag resting on a bean bag, with his hands holding my bare ankles together as he leaned back against the couch.

Slipping my big toes between his lips, his tongue darted around the tips of my toes before he me like a wishbone and planted his precum soaked, cock on the crack of my ass. My clitty squeezed between my belly and his laundry bag, I slipped closer to sexual madness as his wet humping forced me to wet hump his laundry bag. It wouldn’t take much of this action to empty my ovaries.
He stopped humping me before I lost control, and I heard him double wrap his cock. He squeezed a cold glob of lotion into my hole. The cool gel made me shiver and my toes tingle as he thumbed the lotion around my hole before using his knuckles to continue my asshole massage. His teasing my quivering hole flipped a switch inside me. Lost in lust, my hips began lifting my clit enough to allow me to grind my clitty into his laundry bag in a sissy fucking motion. My flexing ass muscles moved him to forget his knuckle job and position his throbbing cockhead at the doorway to my fuck canal.

I think he intended to ease into me, but my sissy took control of my body, and I rammed my ass back on his cock. His cockhead popped inside me, and I ignored any adjustment period and began uncontrollably humping his laundry bag. Milking his delicious cock in the process. I couldn’t stop my body. He halfheartedly moaned his objection to my milking, but the effect of my hip action would soon drive both of us to a mind-blowing orgasm. He could of course pull out to slow things down, but they never do. Once my body overrides my brain, only a cramp or muscle wrenching orgasm can stop the chain reaction building in every nerve of our bodies.
My pre-orgasmic burn set fire to my lust center as I drove my hole back into his swollen cock such growing intensity. My eyes rolled back, and a rocket of warm cream fired from the end of my clit smearing his laundry bag and my belly button with love juice. The clamping effect of my orgasm sent him over the edge, and he grunted loud enough for nearby dairy cows to look for the bull who released such a powerful sound of fucking.

When the orgasmic tidal wave receded, we collapsed in a heap of sweaty skin, spunk, canvas and bean bag. His hips continued to slowly fuck the cum in his condom for a few minutes before he pulled out. The removal of his cock felt so good, my ovaries would have fired again if they had anything more to give.

I apologized for the, and he told me not to worry as we recovered enough to continue our journey. He inhaled one more time from my moccasin before zipping it back on my foot. We didn’t exchanged names, such was the nature of sex with military men at the time, but I will always remember him as my Rest Stop Moccasin Man.